


The Devil and I

by Lola_moon291



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Porn, Bottom Bruce Wayne, Canon Typical Violence, Dom/sub Undertones, Dubious Consent, Fluff, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Top Jerome Valeska, Well for them anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:53:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27728393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lola_moon291/pseuds/Lola_moon291
Summary: “He was so close now, he could practically taste him. They were breathing the same thick air. He didn’t know how they’d gotten to this point, when he’d made the fatal mistake of seeking vengeance in place of justice,”
Relationships: Jerome Valeska/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 6
Kudos: 52





	The Devil and I

**Author's Note:**

> Hey bitches, I’m back happy thanksgiving here’s some angsty smut 😌 Jerome and Bruce shippers come get y’all juice.

“You won’t,” Bruce said in what he hoped was an even tone. He was so close now, he could practically taste him. They were breathing the same thick air. He didn’t know how they’d gotten to this point, when he’d made the fatal mistake of seeking vengeance in place of justice, how his hands had ended up fisting the ridiculous suit jacket between his fingers. Why he’d let the words of a mad man pierce his very being, but it was too late for rationality, no they’d long past the point. Jerome was speaking and all he could do was hold on for dear life. Try his hardest not to beat the man to death. He’d encourage it he thinks, make his voice as soft and raspy as he’d done in the maze and then Bruce would be truly lost, maybe even lost enough to follow him into darkness and never recover. 

“Won’t I Bruce? You think I’m above forcing you?” Jerome breathed, his hand gripping a head full of dark hair, Bruce still had him by the jacket but he’d changed the angle, Bruce had let him, and now he was looming over him, and every never ending in his body had never felt more on edge. Jerome’s face twisted into something truly terrifying then. Understanding, and if it weren’t for the hand in his hair, Bruce would’ve hid himself. He’s leaning in lips curved at the shell of his pink tipped ears. His breathes were barley more than harsh pants. “Ya know Brucie, the way you’re lookin at me, I don’t even think I’d have ta force you. Not really.” And then he was licking the shell of his ear free hand trailing the expanse of his neck as Bruce failed to repress a shudder, failure to repress at the hands of Jerome Valeska was becoming a pattern, and he wanted to kill him for it. 

“Don’t.” He’s managed through gritted teeth, it was weak and barely more than a murmur and-fuck, when had Jerome put his thigh between his legs. 

“Don’t what?” Jerome pulled his head back just enough to stare into his eyes, and Bruce had never noticed their vibrancy before. He didn’t now either. Only staring into them with all the heat he could manage, Jerome only shuddered in response never looking away for him, twisting his hand painfully tight into Bruce’s scalp. “Don’t what darlin’?” Bruce closed his eyes, couldn’t stand to look at Jerome, the way he was looking at him. Like he was the most valuable damn thing in the world, couldn’t stand the way it broke his heart and stung his eyes. 

“Don’t touch me, I don’t want you that way I-“ Bruce realized the mistake in phrasing too late and Jerome looked delighted. A forced chuckle filling the air between them and then something truly insane happened. 

More crazy than Jerome, than Gotham. Bruce laughed, a sad bitter laugh and then it was impossible to stop, manic giggles forcing themselves out of his mouth, Jerome was staring, silent, and then an equally agonizing laugh escaped his lips and then were racked with it, tears fuzzing out Bruce’s vision and he couldn’t, couldn’t stop and Jerome was forcing his head gently against his chest and he couldn’t help but laugh even harder at that and Jerome’s chest was heaving, heart racing, solid and Bruce couldn’t help how forcefully he’s leaned into him. “I hate you. God I hate you for everything you’ve done and I hate you, I fucking hate you” bruce mumbled in between breathless laughs and tears that wouldn’t fall over. 

“I know, I hate you too.” It was too soft. The tone and the words saying two drastically different things that Bruce didn’t have the energy to decipher, he didn’t want too. 

They stayed that way for what seemed like years until the last of their chortles died into a deafening silence and that was almost worse, neither made a move to separate, Bruce didn’t know what would happen when he’d let Jerome go what he’d do. But he’d do it and then he’d be too far gone either way, so he kept his hard tucked into the solid warmth of him, Jerome was whispering now, sweet meaningless words into his hair don’t move, he mantras to himself, don’t. and before Bruce could think to stop himself he was leaning up, looking into vibrant green eyes and pulling him in, closing the gap between Jerome’s lips and his with a sigh, he was so tired. It was chaste and sweet the way he’d kissed Selina, but their was a heat behind it that he’d never felt, hatred. He’d given in for all of two seconds, before his brain began to work again, pulling away, and just like that Jerome was on him harsh scarred lips assaulting every inch of skin he could grasp. Bruce stilled at first, at the sudden and present onslaught of tentative licks abusing the flesh of his neck, forced himself too still, because as it stood he’d only kissed Jerome, he could say he’d gone temporarily insane and it wouldn’t be a lie. Jerome was seemingly forcing himself onto him, and he was an innocent victim. Frozen in shock, petrified, he could rationalize. Could stay perfectly still. Bruce considered it for a moment, Jerome’s frantic hands grasping at him. No, Bruce Wayne wasn’t anyone’s fucking victim, he kissed Jerome violently enough force to bruise their lips for hours if not days after. It was violent, like a frenzy had taken place and he couldn’t help himself, needed more. 

Jerome groaned when Bruce broken the kiss just long enough to let him breathe. Six seconds, six agonizingly painful seconds before his lips were back on him, and Bruce didn’t want to separate from him ever again. He was bending under calloused hands that dragged blunt finger nails painfully down his flank, and if he bent, became malleable at the hands of a mad man, then he knew he would surely be just as insane. He couldn’t bring himself to care, not right now, not tonight.   
“Knew you wanted me,” Jerome said smug and then gasping as Bruce made quick work of his pants, shoved his hand inside to palm at him. “Fuck, Bruce, ah” and Bruce couldn’t help but watch Jerome thrust up into his hands, frenzied. Bruce was being cruel, taking away the friction of his hand as quickly as he’d given it, drawing the neediest whine he’d ever heard from his redheads mouth, he needed to hear it again. He had the upper hand, Jerome was too blissed out to fight him, or he just really liked being thrown around. Bruce couldn’t decide which he liked better. He’d grabbed him by the front of his suit jacket again turned his body and pressed him hard into the Bocote wood of his fathers study, twisting his arm into his back painfully until his shoulder popped in warning incase he’d had enough sense to run, he was fully in control. 

One of Jerome’s hand was clawing at the threshold, he was smiling like always, only his half lidded eyes and kiss bruised mouth gave any indication of how incredibly wired he was, that and the hard outline of him in his white pants. He was squirming against bruce enough to be pinned, entirely on purpose.   
“Stay fucking still Jerome, or I’ll make it hurt.” He had his hand in deceivingly soft auburn hair, at the shell of his ear just like Jerome had done to him, licking a broad strip to his pulse, thudding underneath his tongue, and just like that he was still underneath him Jerome looked beautiful like this. But Jerome was still Jerome, and of course he never ever shuts up. 

“Whatcha gonna do Brucie?” If Bruce didn’t know better he’d say he sounded nervous, but that isn’t nerves, no it’s anticipation. He’d let his hands trail slowly down Jerome’s flank, felt him tense underneath him as he made his way back to the front of his pants, stopping just short of his cock. 

“Beg.” Was the only word that left his mouth, twisting into a satisfied smirk as he pulled back complex stifling a laugh at the almost whine the Jerome managed to reign in as Jerome contemplated whether or not he’d reduce himself to begging just to get Bruce’s hands back on him. Then he was decided Turning himself around to face bruce and lean against the wall, Bruce once again realized his mistake too late, he’d left time for recovery and if the way the Jerome was smiling at him was any indication, he had no intention of begging. So Bruce did the only logical thing he could think of. Run. 

He’d headed for the door of the study but Jerome was too close, too fast. And then Jerome was tackling him to the ground, pinning bruce squarely underneath him as he struggled, shifting his weight onto Bruce’s legs to prevent him for flipping them, a heavy hand on his back to keep him still. “Whatsa matter doll? Come on use your words.” Bruce could feel Jerome’s long finger canting his hips, unbuttoning his pants, pulling them along with his underwear roughly down his thighs, could feel how hard Jerome was against his bare skin. Couldn’t speak. “That’s all right love, you’ll be screaming soon enough.” Jerome said patting his cheek. He could feel cold wet fingers pushing against the tight ring of muscle, his body trying to fight the intrusion.

“Jerome, Jerome stop.” It wasn’t even half convincing in his own ears, he couldn’t imagine it sounded much better in Jerome’s. All it got him was a quipped laugh, he could feel the vibrations of it where Jerome’s lips had settled at the back of his neck. His skin was on fire, Jerome’s wandering hand slipping the knife out of his jacket sleeve and Bruce stupidly wondered for a moment if he’d had it the entire time, resting it against Bruce’s sternum, he briefly wondered if this was all an elaborate means to kill him, but then it wasn’t cutting into him, just the black turtle neck that Jerome had already partially destroyed at the neck earlier.

“Quiet Bruce or ah I swear to god I’ll make it fucking hurt.” He shuttered as Jerome said is words back to him, and they’d sounded so much better on the receiving end.

Bruce thought distantly of the consequences of Jerome taking him. How on the long cold Gotham nights when he’d inevitably dream of it long after, he could feel the event committing to memory already. The unmistakable heat of him hard against his back. All of it, Bruce would remember all of it, and he was harder than he’d ever been in his entire life. He should speak say something, break the silence they’d fallen into, the only sound, Bruce’s harsh breathing and Jerome’s moans that did nothing for his current predicament, made his reactions that much harder to keep intact. 

“It hurts oh- .” Jerome didn’t listen, Bruce didn’t want him to. His turtleneck roughly torn from his body small beads of blood falling where Jerome had cut too deep. Jerome was speaking, he’d almost missed it at the blood rushing through his ears. Lithe fingers thrusting into his prone body as he withered around them, the spit was barley enough to make it bearable, then Jerome was crooking his fingers and Bruce was seeing fucking stars. “Oh fuck.” Bruce could barely recognize the sound of his voice, it was high and desperate and he didn’t want to think too hard on how wrecked he’d become at the hands of Jerome Valeska. Jerome was thrusting fingers into him unbearably slow, then pulling out all together, and Bruce physically recoiled at the loss of his touch. Resting his head on the priceless carpet of father’s study. “Why-“ Jerome cut him off before he could think to finish. 

“Beg.” Bruce audibly groaned, trying to bring his hand to his cock in a desperate attempt to relieve the hot, heavy pressure in his abdomen, the stifling tension, Jerome caught his wrists before he’d even managed to get them under himself. It was too much, he felt empty without Jerome’s fingers inside him and he was aching. He remained silent until finally he could choke out a shocked “What?” He didn’t want to give Jerome the satisfaction. Jerome’s resolute sigh broke him from his thoughts, grinding hips into Bruce’s ass. Teasing him.

“Beg me to fuck you Bruce. If you do it well enough maybe I’ll let you cum.” He said as if he were talking about something as plain as the weather or the morning paper, implying that he intact hadn’t believed Bruce’s carefully calculated performance of control. Languid and smug like he wasn’t thrusting himself against bruce like a wanton whore. Bruce shook his head, tears in his eyes due to impatience rather than fear but they worked all the same. 

“Jerome. Please I need it fu-“ Bruce forced out he could feel the head of Jerome’s cock barley inside him. had been so caught up he hadn’t noticed Jerome’s other hand making it’s way to his dick. He couldn’t speak it was too much, too much.

“What was that doll? You were saying something weren’t you? I didn’t quite get that.” Jerome said against his neck he was between Bruce’s legs not moving him so that his hips were completely of the ground, barely there touches teasing his leaking cock. He’s sure he looked absolutely pathetic, he could feel this bruised forming on his neck when Jerome had been just seconds before. He needed to say something, stop withering underneath skilled hands. 

“Stop teasing please I’m begging please I need-” He could hear the panic in his voice which only seemed to amuse Jerome more than anything, knew exact what he was doing. Jerome placed the hand that hand been inside him under his chin lifting him up just enough to change the angle.

“What Bruce? What do you need say it.”

“Need you insi-“ he turned away trying to force himself out of Jerome’s grip and line of site, he felt the sharp sting of a smack against his ass, Bruce moaned, earned him another smack. 

“Do I need to spank you Bruce? Or are you gonna be a big boy and tell me what you want?” Bruce nodded as well as he could in Jerome’s vice grip, he’d surely have his finger prints bruised into him for days, the thought alone had him leaking. He steeled himself. 

“No, I’ll tell you.” He gasped, Jerome’s hand patting his cheek in encouragement. He dick still shallowly thrusting into him. “I want you inside of me.” And then as an afterthought. “Please, Jerome want you so bad.” Jerome’s sigh was all the warning he had before Jerome had pushed him onto his cock, covering Bruce’s mouth to stifle his scream, he felt split in half, so completely full, he’d tear at the seems. Jerome groaned. “You’re so tight Bruce,” he could only whimper in response, his whole body taunt, a dull sodded ache throbbed inside of him, spit hadn’t been nearly enough to lessen the burn but Bruce didn’t care, wanted it to hurt. “Jerome, please, fucking move.” 

Jerome’s thrust were brutal, Bruce could hear the sounds of his moans echoing through the manor. Jerome lifted him up shifted the angle and then “Fuck! Ah yes yes please, don’t stop,” bruce could barley recognize the sound of his wrecked voice. Jerome thrusting into him brutally, faster hitting that spit inside bruce that lit him of fire fraying his nerves, made him clench around Jerome. 

“Fuck Bruce, ah” The sounds coming from Jerome alone were going to push him over the edge.

“Jerome please I’m so close ah,” Jerome’s thrust were becoming erratic, faster as he wrapped his hand around Bruce. 

Bruce grabbed onto the back of his neck pulling them closer. “Jerome I’m gonna, please please please ah fuck” Bruce’s orgasm hit him like a freight train, Jerome fucking him into oversensitivity, as he spasmed beneath him, and cuming as Bruce’s body spasmed around him, erratic thrust stilling with a stifled while into Bruce’s shoulder, the sting of his skin giving at Jerome’s mouth sinking deep into his soft unmarked skin, it would surely scar and Bruce tried desperately not to smile at the thought. 

Jerome pulled out of Bruce, hands at his hips gently turning him around so bruce straddle him face to face. He opened himself mouth to speak but Jerome’s lips took the invitation hungrily, kissing into Bruce’s mouth with that same beautiful heat as before. Gently rubbing the small of Bruce’s back. Only pulling away for air, and they stayed like that languid slow kisses. 

The door was creaking, why was-

“Master Bruce?”

“Alfred!”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Till next time dolls ;)


End file.
